Metaphorical White Water
by nlsdn5
Summary: He hadn't seen him for years, and this really wasn't what he was expecting.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

''Do not ever come near me, or my sister again.''

Those were the last words Takao heard from Midorima, before he figuratively and literally left his life. Quiet but scathing. He would have left regardless, but it hurt him most that a friendship of 4 years was severed over a simple misunderstanding….

Midorima had been leaving for America. As usual, he'd performed exceptionally well, one of the top in the state, and as a result, some prestiged medical university had accepted his application with no hesitation. However, this also meant that Midorima would be permanently leaving home, to a life in America. He said he'd come back for the summer holidays, but everybody doubted that.

Kise and Momo had naturally wanted to throw a farewell party the night before he would go to the airport. It was held at Midorima's house; partly because it was so damn big, and his parents were still out at work so Aomine was able to bring along a huge stash of booze. That also meant Hinata, Midorima's sister would be there.

It was just by chance that Takao had to go pee halfway through the speeches and stories Kise was shouting to anybody who would listen about their days at Teikou, and in the dark, he stumbled into Hinata.

''Oops.. Damn… sorry there Hinata, I can never seem to navigate through the maze you call this house, and the light switches aren't located for midgets like me.'' (The entire family was tall, in fact, even Hinata was taller than Takao, which stung.)

''Oh, hi Takao.''

He knew that tone of voice. Having a sister himself, it was something he had to put up with weekly. The slight tremor meant that she was crying.

''Hinata… are you… crying?''

''N-no… I'm just-''

Yeah, she was actually definitely crying.

''You're feeling sad about Shin-chan leaving right?''

At the mention of her brother, her body was racked with sobs, and she hid her face behind her fringe.

Luckily, Takao had uncovered a mostly fool proof formula to get younger sisters to stop crying.

''Hey Hinata, we're all really sad. And I know for you, it'll probably hurt the most because Shin-chan has always been there right? Yeah, but even though he's going to America, it won't mean all communication is cut off. You can skype him, or write him mail, fuck, just phone him every single night! Even if it's 3 am over there! Because he loves you, and Shin-chan is just as sad to be leaving you. If we both stay strong, and don't worry Shin-chan, he'll finish his degree and come back as fast as possible, yeah?''

He pulled a bobby pin from his hair and pinned back her fringe.

''Th-thanks Takao. I'll do my best for my brother!''

''That's the spirit!''

He pulled her into a hug, because he needed reassurance just as much as she did. Except he couldn't really cry and ruin Shin-chan's night could he?

It was at that point that some dude from Aomine's team had also felt the urge to pee, and wandered into the same corridor. And unfortunately, his alcohol addled mind must've taken the hug the wrong way, and it wasn't long before a rumour reached Midorima's ears that his best friend had been feeling up his sister.

And fuck, neither he nor Hinata were even given time to explain. He was thrown out by Midorima, deaf to the protests of his friends.

That was 5 years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I said in the prologue that the events occurred 5 years from the present but I meant 8. Whoops :) So basically, they haven't seen each other for 8 years, not 5 ^_^

Chapter one

It wasn't long after that Takao left his home too. The only person (other than his family) who knew was Midorima, who by then was on the other side of the world. It didn't matter, he had been desperate to leave by then. Desperate to get away from his friends who kept trying to fix things between himself and Midorima . He'd left without giving any of them his address; why bother trying to keep a bond stretching over 3000 kilometres?

He'd had been accepted by some university in Australia, so that he could do a degree in engineering. It was stimulating, and Takao had enjoyed his time in Australia. He had lived with his mother's sister's family, in their garage-turned-bungalow. And even though nothing would make up for the loss of Shin-chan and his friends and family, just the mere effort of doing well at his studies and improving his English, applying and getting Australian citizenship, and appreciating the vastness of Australia- he could have easily said they were one of the best years of his life.

Australia was what it was- a literal and metaphorical vast desert where he could forget about his old life and just appreciate nature. He went camping and fishing a lot, with other youths from his course. Abseiling in the Grampians. Swimming at Bondi. Snorkelling in the Barrier Reef. Joining the Army reserve. Caravanning around in the Northern Territory. He'd matured and cultivated a different, more crude sense of humour that all the Australians seemed to have.

And if he couldn't have fallen in love with Midorima, at least he had fallen in love with Australia. Following his completion of his Masters, the officers asked him to consider joining the regular army, as a second Lieutenant. They needed people, engineers specifically, to help with the disaster relief clean-up and what not in Indonesia. He didn't even hesitate.

A year later, or 7 years after leaving Japan, he found himself in Afghanistan. By then, he'd gone to Indonesia, East Timor and the Solomon islands. But they was just for peacekeeping. He was a complete fucking idiot to think Afghanistan would be similar.

Because it wasn't. It was hell. It was dust and heat, and hoping you wouldn't be blown up by IED's or grenades or RPG's from the Taliban, whilst you fixed all the fucked up armoured vehicles; building checkpoints from sandbags and wire or counting the group that returned and noticing that the nice guy you could joke with wasn't there. It was all so fucked up. But what was even more fucked up? Takao could see himself doing this again in the future.

Because as much as he hated it, a part of him loved it. Maybe it was the danger or the pressure. Putting his degree into use for a good cause. Helping the people who couldn't help themselves. He'd even learnt Pashtun just so he could talk to the locals, despite the initial accusations of him being a Hazara.

6 months flew by. Takao found himself sitting in his garage-turned-bungalow, with 8 months to waste before his next tour. His degree had taken him to the Middle East, heck, why not apply for a temporary job in some company firm and see where it would take him?

So that's just what he did.

A/N: So I've figured out how I kind of want to format and pace this story.

Basically, it's similar to how Sherlock BBC is; the soldier finds an apartment, makes a new (old) friend in the eccentric handsome man, solve a murder.

The chapters will be quite short, because I can only sit down and think for so long. Thanks to followers :)

Oh and, I do realise there is a lack of Midorima so far. Midorima should turn up within the next 2 or three chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yeah, I realize my writing style isn't really designed for telling stories. Stick with me though, if you think I could improve on descriptions or character personalities TELL ME :)**

**Chapter 2 **

The whole building had been like that- modern, luxurious, and cool. The exact opposite of Afghanistan. Which was good. The CEO of the building firm was Japanese, it was a Japanese company; he was still Japanese at heart and supporting Japanese people was important, right? He'd always loved the Japanese efficiency at being methodical and impressive, and even to his weary mind, getting pushed out of a revolving door into a foyer with roof that stretched towards the sky was damn jaw-dropping.

A week before, he'd sent in his cover letter and resume, and he'd been invited back for an interview.

Walking into the room, there was an intimidating old oak table, and seated behind it were 3 people all immaculately groomed and faces set into a mask. He'd never been one to climb the corporate ladder; they all looked so bored of life. He still knew how to turn on the charm, however. It got him friends in the army who would have otherwise picked on him for his shorter-than-average height, it got him pretty men in countries that were disapproving of it, and in the past, it had even gotten the friendship of Midori- yeah, he wouldn't go there. No. Life had moved on.

He'd entered with relaxed face and a hint of a smile on is face.

''Good morning. I'm Takao Kazunari. I'm here for a position interview.''

''Yes, you are in the right place, come in and take a seat.''

It didn't take long before they began the incessant questioning- he'd always hated how the Japanese were so thorough. Methodical but thorough.

''You've worked in the military, yes?''

''For nearly three years, correct.''

''And it wasn't for the Japanese army?''

''No, it was the Australian Defence force. I studied in Australia, and enjoyed the way of life and ideals they had there.''

''So you have been away from home for long periods?''

''Yes.''

''How do you think your international affairs will contribute to our project?''

''I can provide a different perspective, as well as effectively work in a team, under a lot of pressure, and if needed, take leadership. Furthermore, I've had to deal with many different people from different backgrounds, so I believe I am confident in my social skills. I can also speak English as fluently as a first language, which may be of aid in communication with foreigners.''

It went on for about two hours. By the end, even the most thickest person could tell that they were impressed. By the time he'd closed the heavy glass door behind him, he had a guarantee of the position from all three interviewers, as well as three business cards with a scribbled phone number on the back that had been discreetly handed to him at random intervals. Unfortunately for them, the only Japanese person whom he had interest in had raised his expectations so high, just like his height and his talent and- fuck, he was thinking about Midorima again.

One week later, he was called into a meeting in the same building, that was to be held by the project manager. Apparently all the important people such as investors and funders, the CEO and managers of sub sections and whatnot were also there. He'd been seated with all the other engineers , architects and mechanics. People who had the same love for fixing and making shit.

The man with the microphone and the tacky PowerPoint had a shit-eating grin and what little hair he had left slicked back with far too much grease. Except he probably missed a spot at the back, because a small tuft stuck up at the back. Takao found it hilarious.

''I know that not all of you know exactly all the details of the project, so I'd like to recap for your benefit. Kiyoshi and Co. have been hired by an American development council ito build not just a hospital, but they've had a new innovative idea to have a hotel as a part of it so that families and patients waiting to go in have somewhere close by to stay. What this means that in one week time, we will be on a plane to Los Angeles, ready to start work that should take two years. Of course, we know that you cannot stay so far from home for so long, so that is why we have hired so many people, so that positions can be rotated every 8 months to give you time to spend with family.''

Takao stopped listening after that. He was going to be going to Los Angeles. As in, according to Miyaji (he'd been so surprised that Midorima had kept in touch; the blonde was still fucking scary), the place Midorima lives. It was far fetched thinking to entertain the possibility that they could meet in such a large city but… Takao had a tendency for shit to happen to him. But still. Eight months in America. It was like another campaign except without all the… war. And it wasn't just him who felt that way, the room was buzzing with excitement.

**A/N: Okay, I know Midorima isn't in this chapter BUT I PROMISE; THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL EITHER HAVE MIDORIMA IN IT, OR I'LL SWITCH PERSPECTIVE. And… it might be a bit sad? I'm not sure how I want Midorima to develop. I'll try to update tomorrow :) Thank-you to all readers 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

It was his first time ever sitting in business class, and fuck , did it feel good. There was so much more space in the chair and leg room. Midorima would've loved it- he was NOT going there. As Takao non-so-gently reclined his chair into the unsuspecting lap of the person behind him, he took another glance at the person next to him. He was some dude from the north of Japan, early-forties and probably halfway through a mid-life crisis, judging by the fact he had a worn wedding ring yet a picture of him and a babe as his phone background. Sneaky.

''So… you're working for Kiyoshi, right?''

Well, he couldn't say he didn't try to initiate conversation.

''Yes. Accountant.'' The man grunted, and didn't even spare him a glance.

Takao knew he wouldn't get any enjoyable or meaningful conversation out of him. And as much as he loved talking to people, he really couldn't be fucked. He settled back into his chair, and opened up his laptop. He wanted to start writing a reply to his sisters email she had sent him a week ago.

Naturally, she was disappointed that he wouldn't be staying with the family during his time off, but at the same time, both she and her parents were happy that he would be working a job that was safe and reputable for their community. How many people from their small town had ever gotten to work in America? His parents still worked, but from home, which suited them well. He was glad that they were living a comfortable life as they got older.

Suzume had finished her bachelors in design a year or so, and had immediately gotten hitched to her childhood friend. Takao remembered him as very shy and submissive in contrast to his sisters dominating personality, which was exactly what she wanted. Maybe now she'd stop picking on him all the time.

The luggage pickup and the rest of the air travel process passed by in a haze as Takao staggered through customs in a sleep-deprived and exhausted state. And all he knew, during the next 2 hour ride on a taxi to the designated hotel, was that he desperately needed to pee. As in, if it weren't for the fact he wasn't sure of the regulation and severity of America's legal system, then he would probably have had rolled down the window and contort himself to allow some relief of his bladder.

Regardless, the contrast of all the neon flashing colours , high rise buildings and people even at that time of the night was strangely comforting as it was the same but different setting of any countries capital city. The hotel they were staying in was five-star luxury, had a million and one awards, all of the famous American singers had stayed there at least once, and so forth. Best of all, it was completely paid for by the company for the first three days. Afterwards, they could choose to stay in the hotel until the 8 months of their job was up, or they could, in that time, find a flat to live in. Takao wasn't struggling financially, but he wasn't exactly rolling in it, and he knew that he'd be able to stay at the hotel for a week at the most. His work would also start in one week, so basically, he needed to find a permanent residence in 3 days. But entering his room, the sight of the premade bed and its alluring softness caught him in its hypothetical arms, and sleep took him. House-hunting could wait.

''Sir, I know that you have been paying bills on time; you are not loud and there have been no complaints about you. And I am fully aware that you only come here to sleep. But if you do not clean up the apartment, I will evict you, as all this mess poses a health hazard.''

His landlord stood in front of him, her small stocky stature resolutely planted in front of him. She was not going to move if they did not come to a mutual agreement. Midorima had a few limited choices. He could clean the apartment himself. That would've been his choice if it weren't for the fact he had never cleaned before in his life, and wasn't really intending to. He could hire somebody to come and clean every week. Or he could look for a flatmate. It wasn't as if the apartment was cheap; it was in a prime location in the middle of the city, and he didn't want to move out. Coupled with the fact that he had needed to fork over a large sum of money for his weekly sessions with a therapist.

Yes, a flatmate was the only remaining option.

''Would a flatmate be a feasible option?''

''Yes, do you have somebody in mind?''

''No, but I have a set criteria in my mind. Would it be too much to ask if you could conduct the interviews for me, using your judgement? I'm hoping for somebody by the end of this week, but I will be away because of work.''

He knew that the old lady loved this kind of thing, interrogating people and getting in their business.

''It would be no trouble at all! Just come down and give me a sheet with the requirements before you leave.''

''Thank-you.''

He shut the door, before turning to face the suitcase and piles of scattered clothes on the dusty carpet. As a surgeon turned forensic pathologist, Midorima worked for the FBI. He never really dealt with the actual detectives like they show it in NCIS or whatever; he usually just wrote up reports that were sent to the head office in Sacramento, which was where the annual briefing and hazing of new recruits was. That was to be held tomorrow, and truthfully, Midorima could not have cared less.

He did a lot of that these days.

**A/N: Sorry for the longer than usual wait. School is picking up the amount of work, and I didn't really know hot to go about this chapter and I'm not 100% happy with it, but it achieves its purpose. So hopefully, in the next 2 chapters, we will have the long awaited reunion. Thank-you for reading 3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

**A/N: I'm sorry for not updating for a month. School got in the way, but since I'm on holidays now, I think I'll be able to regularly update.**

It was his final day at the hotel before he would move. He had found a small flat on the outer fringes of the city, though he would have to share with a young mother and a few high school graduates, who would inevitably not go to college and instead, stay at home, getting completely pissed. Fun times. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the arrangement, but on such short notice, it had been far better than those of the other members of his team. Once he actually started getting paid, would he look for a better place that was closer. But it couldn't be helped.

After having his last breakfast (eggs and bacon) at the hotel, Takao had decided to go to the enormous shopping centres in the city central; firstly to buy a few last minute things he would need, such as food, clothes, the public transport card, etc. The city was always described to have 'come alive' at night, but even during the day, the sheer numbers of people present felt more than enough to be deemed as alive. It was similar to rush hour in Japan, except much more wild and unchecked.

Exiting the stalls and shops hours later, arms laden with bags, Takao headed towards the nearest café for a coffee fix. He wasn't a naturally selective person, but years of listening to Midorima waffling on about the flaws in every given item on a shelf had seem to rub off on him. Despite how fit he was, his arms were just about ready to fall off by the time he was waiting for the light to change, across the road from his desired destination. The flashing red man stood there stubbornly as the cars and trucks flew past. Finally, he was replaced with the running green man. The people behind him jostled to get out of his way as he swung up the numerous bags he had placed on the ground. A car rushed by.

No, that could not be right. A car shouldn't have gone, the light had turned green. He put down his bags to see a car racing down the road, and a man lying on the curb of the other side. There was blood. A crowd had gathered. He had seen this scene many, many times. Dropping his bags, he sliced through the gathering crowd with determination, even causing a man to drop his briefcase, in order to make his way to the victim.

''Everybody, please back away! If you want to help, make sure the traffic does not come this way!'' The order came naturally to him, and the calmness in his commanding tone must've reassured the crowd, as they did what they were told. As they dispersed, he could see an old lady already putting pressure on a gaping thigh wound.

''Ma'am, has an ambulance been called yet?''

She looked at him, as he began loosening the tightly knotted tie on the mans chest.

''No, I was hoping one of the younger folks would have a phone on them.''

''I'll do it now. Is he breathing alright?''

''Yes, breathing is fine. He's mostly conscious, open wounds on his legs, I'm guessing a fractured arm, broken ribs, concussion and possibly internal damage.''

He repeated what she said to the operator on the phone, before putting it back into his pocket and bending down to get a closer look at the man. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, middle class, and married. His eyes were open and flickered with acknowledgement at Takao's presence.

''Hey Mister, the medics will be here in 5 minutes okay? So I need you to stay awake until they come.''

''The… case…'' The man grew increasingly agitated, eyes glancing wildly. Takao followed suit, before spotting an object five metres away.

''Your briefcase? It's just over there, I'll get it now.''

It was a nice case, made out of polished, beaten leather, and heavy with what must be files that held importance to the man.

''Could you hold onto it...you and the old woman… come with me to the hospital?''

Eh, why not? It would be more exciting than sitting around listening to the screams of a baby through the paper thin walls of his future apartment. He glanced at the woman, who did not seem to object either.

''So, were you a nurse or something?''

''Indeed I was. Nursed all the poor fools back to health during the Cold War. I take it you're part of the military too, boy? What is your name?''

''Takao, it's Japanese. And yeah, I've been in the military but not the American one.''

''You're here on leave? California is usually a college student holiday destination.''

''I switched to the reserve, because Afghanistan was too much, and I wanted to go back to the civilian life. I'm starting work like, next week next to the Good Samaritan Hospital across the city. ''

''Oh, you're part of the development project to build the hotel next to it? But that means you've only been here for a week.''

''Haha, finding accommodation in a city like this is the hardest part!''

''Well Takao, I happen to own property in the centre of the city, and one of my tenants has conveniently requested me to find a suitable flatmate for him. Would you be interested?''

''Ma'am, I most definitely will be. When can I move in?''

''You young people are always in such a rush, don't you want me to tell you about my tenant? ''

''Surely nothing can be worse than a new mother and a couple of drop-kicks. And besides, I don't think you'd let any tenant of yours be a pain in the ass.''

''Well said. He's away on business currently, so I can take you to the apartment afterwards without disruption.''

''Excellent.''

**A/N: If you can't tell, yes, the old lady is Midorima's landlady. Hopefully, after I finish laying out all the 'setting' chapters, we can begin with the crime element of the story. And the Mido/Taka ;D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

Within a day, Takao had moved into his new apartment. It was modern, of a comfortable size to accommodate two people, and it was a stone's throw from the office he would work at in two days time. The actually framework and structure of the apartment was quite old; the whole street was a kind of a heritage site, especially for tourists who wanted to see the architecture designs of the 1920's. Every building was easily worth over a million dollars, yet his landlady had refused to sell her property. She claimed that corporate giants would somehow destroy everything, build a megamall over it, and along with her houses, her childhood and family history.

His landlady's name is Mrs Hakkasan- half Japanese, but had never learnt the language. The suburb was known to be a Japanese dominated area- following World War 2, all the Japanese people had come together, due to the rampant discrimination and xenophobia. Her family had moved to the mainland, following the Pearl Harbour incident, in order to get further away from where battles between the Americans and the Japanese would inevitably take place, but had not received a warm welcome from the American people. It didn't help that the family was rich, the father had bought all the houses in the street, and was reputed to be a ruthless landlord. Mrs Hakkasan had followed in his footsteps, though she had mellowed out with age.

After the last well muscled man had walked out the door(he'd picked a few young fit men from the moving company to do all the lifting, as he sat on the couch doing all the admiring), Takao invited Mrs Hakkasan over to celebrate his successful integration into the apartment. Before long, they'd gotten to the point in the conversation where Takao could not hold in his curiousity, and inquired as to what kind of person his flatmate was.

''So, you're saying he's a surgeon? What does he specialise in?''

''I think he was an orthopaedic specialist before he somehow got into forensic pathology.''

''Shit, so this guys really smart. And he should be rich! Why is the house so empty then?''

''You know, Mr Kazunari, in all the 4 years he has lived here, I have never seen him bring anybody home, outside of family members every now and again. He's a very closed off man, sometimes I think he is quite lonely. Even just having a flatmate like you would be good!''

The old woman smiled sadly. ''It's not good to be lonely in this society. Typing on the computer doesn't make up the precious moments we get with our friends face to face… Please promise me you will be kind to Mr Midorima!''

Weeks later, Takao would find out that Mrs Hakkasan was so passionate about making sure people had somebody to talk to, as her own son had committed suicide. But currently, his whole body had frozen at the name that left her lips.

Midorima. No- impossible. It was probably somebody with a similar surname.

''Dear, are you alright?''

It was too late anyway. He couldn't pack up and leave now.

''Haha, yeah, I'm alright. Just a bit deflated from all the excitement of this morning. And yes, I will do my best to worm my way into Mr Midorima's heart!''

He gave cheerful grin, and an over-the-top peace-sign, which was enough to satisfy the landlady.

''Excellent! I will be going now as I need to be up early. If you any help, I'll be on the bottom floor. Oh, and Mr Midorima will be returning sometime this night or early morning, just so you know!''

The door clicked shut behind her retreating heels, and his smile disappeared as he slumped against the worn armchair and tried not to hyperventilate. This was America, for fucks sake, Midorima could well be French, or German, or Siberian. Or maybe not- he hadn't missed the sack of rice in the kitchen. The assorted cans of drinks and foods from Japanese brands. The traditional hand carved chopsticks. The decorations that all Japanese people stuck up in their homes out of habit. Well even if this Mr Midorima was Japanese, it wasn't as if Midorima was an entirely unique surname. And she would have said something if he had green hair- who doesn't tell somebody if their flatmate has green hair?

And even in the unlikely, nigh-impossible chance it did turn out to be him, he could just stay in his room until he left for work. Yeah, he could survive eight months if he put his mind to it. He'd tough it out like the hardened soldier he was. Some things just didn't need confronting.

The night sky was illuminated by the screen of his phone lighting up. A new message. If it was his boss wanting to inquire about something work related, he would probably have a breakdown on the street. He had been forced to sit in a room with multiple obnoxious people of various positions within crime enforcement, and struggle to make them comprehend that he was the pathologist, and consequentially, had enough proof to make a report that would sentence the man that had been sitting in the corner of the room silently, to prison. This had lasted for days, and hence was one of the reasons why he preferred the peacefulness of his laboratory, with only the company of the morgue assistant who was petrified of him, and the body on the table.

One New Message from ''Landlady''

_11:48 PM_

_Mr Midorima;_

_Just informing you that your new flatmate has moved into the apartment. I have found him to quite likeable. I am sure you two will be able to introduce yourselves once you return._

_-Martha_

Midorima let go of the breath he had been holding. It wasn't his boss. He could deal with the flatmate after an actual night of sleep. Right now, he really needed a taxi. In the distance, he could see one approaching the door of the airport terminal he happened to be sitting inside. He quickly grabbed his suitcase, and stuck his arm out. The taxi slowed to a halt, its lights glaring into his tired eyes. The window slid down.

''Where to?''

''Capital, East Sixth street, next to Hollenbeck Park.''

''Hop in, mate.''

Clearly, somebody was happy to be going to the capital, headed for a long night of drinking. It wasn't him, however. He pulled out his phone once again, and cursed his sister.

Before leaving to Oxnard a few days ago, his sister happened to feel the need to rant to him for an hour about the mundane details in her life, and requesting advice. That wasn't so bad in comparison to what she had felt the need to tell him; that a man he hadn't spoken to for nearly a decade was to be coming to the city, and that he should get in contact because said man would be staying for eight months. That had bothered him enough that forty minutes into the taxi ride to his destination, he had realized he left all his cash back at home. He still had all his cards on him, but dashing off into his house after a one hour taxi ride wasn't going to look very good. However, with the arrival of a flatmate, his problem could be resolved.

He tapped in the landline number, hoping that luck was on his side and his flatmate was awake. (Over the years, he had become less dependent on Oha Asa, and only ever felt the need to obtain the Lucky Item if he had the worst luck that day, or when he had needed to perform difficult operations. One could never be too careful when holding the life of another person in one's hands.)

''...Hello? Is this Mr Midorima?''

''Correct.'' He had added all of his contacts onto his home phone the first week he had moved in, and felt the need to put himself onto the list in order to fill in the empty 'M' slot. ''I presume Mrs Hakkasan has told you that I am currently returning?''

''Yes.''

''I would like to get introductions underway when we meet face to face, but for now, I have a request to ask you. There is money in drawer next to the front door. Could you please put it in the mailbox outside?''

''Sure.''

The clatter as the phone was hastily placed upon some surface told him that he had left to do as told. Midorima heaved a sigh of relief. There was no hesitation, or any awkward questions on the other mans side. He didn't even sound surprised.

''Um… is that all, Mr Midorima?''

''No thankyou. I should be back in about forty minutes. But if you intend on going to sleep, you are welcome.''

''It's alright. Do you want food or anything on the table when you get back? There's a ramen shop still open across the road…''

''If you don't mind, could you please heat up the shiruko in the fridge?''

''Alright. See you soon.''

His flatmate hung up. It was only a minute later did he realise that he hadn't specified what he wanted in English, yet the other man knew. Never mind the fact that he just asked a complete stranger to handle his money, and heat up his food for him. The familiar manner in which he acted was disconcerting to him. He blamed the damn therapist.

**A/N: I'm sorry (not sorry) for putting off the ~meeting~ again haha. But yeah, in the upcoming chapters, I hope to establish their feelings of distress, get the crime aspect of the plot moving, and explain why Midorima has a therapist. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

**A/N: Thank you to all those people following and reviewing :) And this chapter is the moment that I've been putting off, but don't get your expectations too high. It's probably going to end up extremely awkward and painful. (I've been watching Gintama for the past week and all I want to do is write crack _)**

_He found himself lying in a hospital bed, unable to move. Why was he in the hospital? He had patients to see, the damn woman would probably be creating a huge fuss, why couldn't he move his arm, the sheets were suffocating, why couldn't he get out of the damn bed?!_

_His left arm wasn't in a cast, and didn't hurt as much, compared to his right. He tried to push himself up on it. His body wouldn't listen, and kept slumping weakly against the pillows. Fuck. His arm gave way. It shot out beside him, hitting a metal stand. Knocking cards and flowers off the bedside stand. Fuck. The metal stand clattered to the ground, along with it, the drip bag. Fuck. The noise was enough to shatter the calm, and a nurse came running in. His vision began to waver. His body couldn't take that much excitement for one day. The nurse set the drip back upright, and resettled the covers. Didn't she look… very familiar?_

_''Doctor, it is still too early for you to be awake, your body is still recovering!''_

_He was pressed firmly back into the bed. He recognized that hairclip. This nurse was one of his patients._

_Came to America as a Japanese immigrant. Poor English. Barely passed secondary school. Single mother. Struggled to make ends meet. Depression. Anxiety. Appointments once every fortnight on Tuesday afternoons. He hoped to have her ready to face the world before Christmas._

_''Your wife will be here in a few hours, so please rest until then.''_

_Her concerned face blurred. He felt himself sink- not in his bed, but in his mind._

_Please. No._

_He knew he would only resurface in his own time, but it would be hours. Sometimes, even days._

_-o-o-o-o-o-o_

Takao had been basking in the heat of the shower spray, singing along to the powerful sultry tones of Beyoncé when the doorbell chimed. It had to be Mr Midorima. As in, Mr Most-very-likely Shintarou Midorima. Be cool. He could do this. He was a grown man, and no green-haired asshole would make him nervous and scared. Not today, at least. He quickly turned off the water, and soaking wet, hopped to the door and stuck his head out.

''I'M IN THE SHOWER, BUT I'LL BE OUT IN JUST A MINUTE!''

The clink of keys hitting one another and the squeak as the door slid open signalled for him to pop his head back into the steaming bathroom. The floor was decorated with puddles of water, and his towel had fallen into the bathtub, rendering the purpose of said towel useless. Beyoncé sung on. Five seconds in, and he was already off to an excellent start.

After hastily mopping up the mess, fretting over his clothing, debating whether or not to make the naked dash to his room to find more suitable clothing, giving up, getting dressed, Takao finally steeled himself to open the door and take the first step out. He could hear the sound of the television. It was the midnight news. He appreciated the fact that the sound would disguise his approach, so that he would be allowed to prepare himself.

He rounded the corner of the corridor. The lamp in the living room was on, but not the ceiling light. It cast the whole room in a warm soft glow. The carpet itched against his bare feet. The first thing he saw as he stood at the back of the living room was the back of a blond head. His stomach flipped over, as the tension eased off his shoulders. He released the breath he had been holding. Blonde! Blonde as in, probably a pasty white boy! Thank-you, omnipresent deity in the sky! He took a step forward into the light, so that his features could be seen clearly.

''Um, hi! I'm guessing Mrs Hakkasan told you about me-''

His next sentence got caught in his throat like an unexpected bone in a piece of fish. The man on the couch had turned around, and Takao could recognise the green eyes from a mile away. They were green as the cheery shrub that crept along the front window, green like the bottom of a lake that had countless fragments of the past embedded into its mud. And those eyes were framed with oversized hipster glasses he could remember seeing shattered countless times with an unexpected basketball.

He wanted to slap himself on the head for being so stupid. Nobody had natural green hair. Midorima's mother had been a professional swimmer, and forced her children to undergo swimming lessons every school holidays. Even weekends, when they had time. The chlorine had turned their naturally blonde hair to a deep shade of green, something both children had liked. Takao had forgotten how good of a swimmer Midorima was, when they went to training camps at the beach. He'd also forgotten that every school holidays, he had pedalled both of them to the pool nearly every day.

The writhing in his stomach settled into a leaden weight. It made him feel sick. In all those years, what else had he forgotten about Shintarou Midorima…?

-ooo-ooo-o-o-

It was the most ironic thing.

The moment he had landed in America following his graduation, he had craved his friends company. America was too fast, too lively for anybody who had little social skills or fluency in English. Himself included. In those first few weeks, he would find himself turning or opening his mouth to make a comment, but noticing there was nobody beside him. America would have suited Takao perfectly. He could make friends at the drop of a hat, and his fluency at English (thanks to a white grandparent on his father's side) was almost native. After much pushing by his sister, he attempted to contact Takao and apologize. It was then that he found out Takao had also left the country, leaving behind no form of communication. And he couldn't help but feel that was partly his fault. Maybe, all along, Takao had resented him? He couldn't honestly say he had been the most considerate or kind person, but Midorima felt that he had developed a deep bond with his teammate over the years. The severing of that hurt; it hurt him deep inside. And other than his sister and perhaps Kise or Momo, who were halfway across the world and had their own lives to deal with, he did not truly have anybody whom he felt comfortable talking to.

He met Akashi whilst playing a game of chess at the city library. He wouldn't have called Akashi a friend; more like somebody he could respect, despite how weird he was. Akashi wanted a person to have intellectual conversations with; Midorima craved company. They met once a fortnight at Akashi's therapy clinic. For Midorima, it was enough for him to sometimes talk about his feelings, sometimes just rave on about Beethoven. It was a bond that couldn't hurt him if suddenly cut off; just as he wanted it. And so he started to truly believe that he could get over Takao… as much like a tragic love story it sounded.

So when Midorima turned around, at the familiar voice, to see a familiar face he had been purposely trying to avoid since his sister's phone call, it felt as if the tiny bubble of safety he had created in his mind came crashing down.

''…...Get out.'' He wouldn't accept it. He had promised to himself that he would NOT be vulnerable to this kind of pain ever again.

''I'm sorry, what?'' Grey eyes narrowed at him.

Did the idiot not hear him? Had he been too messed up by war? ''I said, get out. As in, walk out the door and do not ever come near me again.''

To his surprise, the shorter man stepped forward. ''Midorima, I believe have as much of a right to be standing in this house as you do. So don't you dare tell me to get out.''

Up close, he could see the spider web of scars on his tanned skin, and defined muscles. Takao was still hairless on his face and limbs. His hair was the same, but his eyes, once so bright and cheery, were now dull and flat. Dimly, he remembered how his death glares and barbed words never had an effect on Takao; once the shorter man made up his mind, he would never back down. And he knew that he had already lost the minute he had opened his mouth.

''Very well, Takao. As your flatmate, I humbly request that you do not cross my path. Goodnight.''

When had he switched to Japanese? No- had he begun in Japanese initially? It did not matter. Midorima stood up, and brushed past the smaller man, resisting the urge to pull him in as normal people would do after not seeing a friend in eight years. But he couldn't call himself Takao's friend. He didn't deserve that title.

**A/N: In case of confusion, I would like to state that yes, they played basketball but not in the hardcore way like in the canon, so therefore Teikou wasn't a thing. The GoM will appear late, excluding Kise, Aomine and Momo out of the plot.**

**And also, I know this probably isnt the rainbows and butterflies reunion that was expected, but I'm trying to create reactions that would realistically match how they would feel, you know? :) But I promise, things will get better between them and I'm very happy to have the actual crime plot to start, because I have never written a mystery crime thing before so yeah! Hopefully it won't be too boring! ^_^**

**Sidenote, I just realized Kazunari is the first name, and I have the feeling I may have written Mr Kazunari somewhere in a previous chapter so… shhhHHhhh. From here on, Kazunari Takao in the form of Firstname Surname it is! **


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